Retrospect
by rousseurlyon
Summary: A Raw Prequel: The days, weeks and months have slipped through her fingers mustering up the courage to contact him. What impulses her to finally come home?
1. Chapter 1

**Retrospect – A Raw Prequel**

* * *

"Are we hungry, bi'bua?" Her stomach growls as she makes her way through the olive grove, reminiscing on the could bes and what ifs. The sun shining at its fullest, cascading through the limbs. Warmth envelopes everything within reach and the warm glow radiates off her skin.

Afternoon had come quickly after she'd spent the morning cocooned with a book. The words grasping reality and hauling her into a creative world. But when the clouds retreated and the sun cascaded in, she'd taken to a walk to stretch her numbing limbs.

As she passes the spot where her partner had begged and pleaded for her to come home with him and she'd turned him down, her mind plays the Tony DiNozzo movie she's unable to stop - not that she wants to. The thoughts are most prominent when she thinks of their daughter; the life created by the pair that would forever link her to him.

Her fingers itch to write to him, but as she sits she's never able to make it past, 'Dear Tony'. Her words and, by far more, her actions had hurt him; left him pleading, tears dripping, as they'd said goodbye. Hers had felt definite, but his felt filled with desire. Staying had been a necessary evil, but never had she'd thought it would hurt to leave him; to live without him.

Her demons had a greater grasp on her heart than her will to live by his side. He'd offered to be what she needed, to allow her the room to grow as a person as long as they remained a pair. But at the time, filled with demons that doubted her, clouded her mind to see only the bad and contort the good, she couldn't comply. But oh, how she wanted to; craved on every inch of her body to follow him, to tell him _yes!_

Their daughter had been an unexpected gift; as if he'd known she'd need a companion. Her impending arrival had been the push she'd needed to work through her troubles and not wallow. Now as the life within comes to life, growing and forming each day, she worries that the day to talk to Tony is sooner than planned.

Crippling fear overcomes at the thought and she decides, through a heavy sigh, not today. And that's how she's spent the last four months, deciding not today and each day that comes and goes, is another day that fear has a tighter grasp on her decision.

With the sun inching closer behind the horizon and the slight breeze causing her to wrap her sweater tighter around her frame, she makes her way back towards her home.

Her home.

The home she'll raise her daughter; watch her take her first steps, learn to speak and achieve all those milestones. The home she dreamed of as a child and locked away as an adult, losing the memory as circumstances molded her for other things.

Her home was the permanence she'd craved, begged for, but it lacked the warmth and glee of her partner. The partner she'd hurt beyond repair, the partner she dreads to contact in fear of rejection, the partner she loves.

She loves him!

It had taken her months of self-reevaluation to admit that indeed she loves Anthony DiNozzo. Yet too much time has passed for her to tell him she was coming home.

Tony wouldn't forgive her, not after this; not after not coming as soon as she'd found out about their child. For keeping this secret to herself, knowing he wouldn't be his father. Therefore, she'd made her home elsewhere;

Away from him.

Though it was becoming harder and harder to do, tonight she'd write him a letter, explaining and only hope that he could forgive her.

Her home would be with him and their daughter.

Her home wasn't separated from him.

As she unlocks her front door, setting the basket in the kitchen and catches sight of a picture of her and Tony on the way out, Ziva resolves to write to him.

The first step.

All else would be in his hands.

* * *

 _Hi, everyone! I'm back with another story written in the Raw Universe; part of the Remnants of Regret Series. This story is sort of a prequel for Raw as it focuses on Ziva's emotions up until the moment she shows up at Tony's door. If you haven't read Raw, I'd suggest reading that story first before embarking on this journey. Either way, it's not dire that you read them in certain order._


	2. Chapter 2

**Retrospect – Chapter 2**

* * *

Dinner comes, the birds retreating to their homes as the sun retreats to the horizon. Nettie calls as Ziva boils water for a fettuccine Alfredo - delicacy of Tony DiNozzo; it's how she prepares the courage to sit down and write to him.

The conversation lasts the length it takes for the pasta to boil and the sauce to finish simmering; she sets it aside to cool. More than simple pleasantries are exchanged. It's more of how Ziva is feeling and how the baby is progressing. Nettie fills the gaps of silence with regails of her daily activities and in the end, when the timer dings, Nettie ends with a gentle push, "Call Tony, Zivali" and then goodbye and again Ziva is left in silence.

Dinner is set aside, forgotten; exchanged for a cup of tea as she settles on the couch with her laptop. Resolve built, she'll start the letter and then return to it after dinner. The gremlin in her stomach grumbles, but she ignores it now for the creativity flowing to write. It's now or she'll never feel this push to write to him.

Ziva was never branded a chicken, couldn't be, but with Tony, she was the biggest coward. With him, she wasn't the NCIS special agent trained as a Mossad officer. With him, she was the little girl that dreamed to wear ballet slippers and leap across the stage, the little girl who'd pictured a family; with him, those suppressed memories flourished to the forefront. With him, she was herself.

Then why had she pushed him away?

Because her current self was embedded with demons that could damage him. And in these last months she worked to rid the cobwebs and allow the sun through to nurture other beings.

Her laptop churns to life and with each moment that comes closer to starting the email, Ziva's stomach churns, flourishes and she accounts it to the baby in her womb; making her presence known.

Liar.

But she won't admit it's the nerves at the prospect that Tony could respond; the uncertainty of where this would lead.

Would he answer?

Would he ignore her?

The possibilities were endless.

And this unsettled her.

'1 new email'

Click.

From: Anthony DiNozzo.

Her heart pounds heavily against her chest and she stares at the unread email for a second, minute, hour. Her heart won't stop beating rapidly and her vision blurs until his name is nothing but fuzz.

Courage in, nerves out and she clicks on his name.

Leaning against the couch, she grabs her mug between her hands for warmth and familiarity and starts to read:

'Dear Ziva,

my therapist thought I'd be a good idea to write you this letter; tell you everything I've wanted to say, but couldn't, not because of lack of communications, but because there's just too much bottled up that I'm afraid that if I let it out, it'll come out too harsh. But you once told me you cannot expect a person to keep things bottled up inside forever and you were right. I tried to bottle everything up, especially at work, but that went as well as McGee's attempts to flirt. I was so fed up with how the team was taking your absence that I screamed I loved you and stormed out. That's the story of how I ended up in therapy and why I'm writing this email.

I don't know what my therapist expects me to tell you. I've said everything I needed to say to her. But I guess I could start with how your stay has made me feel. I've been angry Ziva, angrier than I've ever felt; but not just with you. I'm also angry at myself, angry for not being what you needed to take the leap and come home. This anger, it's made me hate you and resent you for what you've put us all through, for allowing someone else to occupy your desk. That desk is yours, Ziva. And it should still be yours.

I'm not just angry though. I'm- I don't even know what I am anymore. I'm barely there at work; I show up, do my job and leave. I don't play jokes on McGee or Ellie -that's the new girl- and I don't get head slapped for immature behaviour. The whole dynamic of the team is off and as much as I'd like to blame you, I don't. That's on us, I guess.

And as mad as I was at you I miss you, Ziva. I truly do. I understand now why you had to do what you did. I didn't understand it before, full of rage and bitter, but I do now. I don't want you to worry about that. I forgive you. Wow! You don't know how good that feels to say- or write in this case- I forgive you.

I hope that these last few months have been better on you than they have been on me. I hope that you've been able to work through what you needed. And I hope that you're able to find your way back home soon. Know that if you do return, I'll be waiting for you.

I still have some work to do in therapy and although I'll never admit this to anyone, I'll admit it to you; therapy has been good for me.

I hope to see you soon Ziva.

Yours Truly,

Tony'

Tears fall, creating a new mix with her tea. Closing her email, she opens a new page. Deep down she'd known what this time has done to Tony, but too focused on her issues and the life she carries, she's ignored that tidbit.

A response would no longer be enough; she knew what she had to do. Right after dinner, of course.

Purchase a plane ticket was the next item on her list.

* * *

 _Thanks for staying on this journey with me. This universe has been fun to write. I'm not too sure if Retrospect ends here or there is still one more chapter left in this. I'll see where inspiration leads me. If this is the end then the next update will be the start of Room and Board, the sequel to Raw._

 _On another note, for those that have read Scars Don't Heal Placidly, I'm working on a sequel called Flash, Snapshots. It'll consist of oneshots of life with Madeleine, so I'm open to ideas/prompts. Just PM or leave me a review._


	3. Chapter 3

**Retrospect – Chapter 3**

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In her hustle to sort her belongings, pack away what would stay and what she would take, sleep had been cast aside to finish in time to catch her morning flight. The next available flight had been before the sun peeked before the horizon and she'd purchased it before her nerves told her otherwise.

In his letter Tony had mentioned that if she were to come home, he'd wait for her. And that at the moment was her life line. The adrenaline to pack and wait at the airport without wanting to flake. It was the glue keeping her butt attached to her seat.

Now with her carry-on tucked under the seat in front of her, she pulls out a book to keep her mind occupied during the flight and the hustle of the remaining passengers left to board; keep her from all the worries that inhabited her mind. It sits in her lap, but the words blur together like wet watercolors as her mind drifts, consumed by thoughts of the uncharted territory that soon expects her.

With a heavy sigh, she gives up on trying to understand the love story, struggling with seeing a happy ending to hers. Her feet find solace tucked under her and her eyes gravitate towards the window, allowing her mind to reach the heights of the clouds.

Her flight companion, isolated by the buds in her ears, turns curious eyes to Ziva, but like a slinky, retracts when one another lock eyes. A deep sigh and she returns to bead eyes out the window, the clouds transforming into the silhouette of Tony and it seems her mind is trapped in a constant cycle of Tony.

Clutching tighter at her midsection, her eyes blur. The butterflies return full force, consuming her belly and bricks fill her deflated lungs. Despite his letter, reassuring that he would be there when she chose to return, the doubt grows. There had been so much anger radiating off the page, the words a dragon waiting to attack. Her stay had been damaging, clawing at his heart. She hadn't been the only one suffering and on some molecular level, she knew that. Despite that, she'd been selfish; too in herself to worry about anything, but working through her issues.

If she were Tony, she wouldn't forgive her either. And as much as it would hurt, if he needed, she'd give him space; just as he'd done for her. And if he rejected her, well then, she'd just need to find how to work in a new dynamic for the baby.

Her head hits against the seat, her eyes closing and opening in desperation. Her book sits in the seat holder, her seat partner entranced in their music and the clouds aren't serene. The next few hours trapped in this plane, her own prison.

...

Her cab ride feels as long as the plane ride, though she'd tried to sleep for most of the flight; keep her mind off the current situation. Her seat partner had engaged her in some mild conversation while they handed out the meals, but that had only distracted her for about an hour or so and the worries of Tony bounced back. It also didn't help that her daughter was a bit unsettled and she was unable to distinguish between the flutters of nerves and her daughter's.

On the last two hours of the flight, Ziva prepared what she'd tell Tony. How she would relay the information of their daughter and the possible scenarios of how it would go. They all ended with her leaving his apartment and returning back to the farmhouse; Tony wanting nothing to do with their daughter, but especially her.

The scenery doesn't register, and despite the hour there is an abundance of life within the city, she missed the key points of her arrival at Tony's building. She assumes that the cab driver has been trying to get her attention for a couple of minutes now because when his voice registers it's laced with frustration.

"We're here miss."

Ziva pays the driver, leaving a hefty tip and exits.

"Now or never bi' bua." With a deep breath, she makes her way into the apartment building.

Each step is heavy and it brings her closer to her future. Time seems to move in slow-motion, eyes blurry and she doesn't remember her walk up to his apartment.

Minutes, hours, she debates in front of the door. To knock or not to knock. _Knock Ziva_ , she encourages. And knock she does. Her heart beats and she worries the sound is enough to wake him. Her baby flutters away, attempting to soothe her mother. Ziva settles a hand on her belly and knocks moments later.

No response. Another knock.

The door unlocks and the knob turns. His face before her, "Hello Tony."

He stares bewildered.

* * *

 _That concludes Retrospect. Thanks for reading, reviewing and favoriting. I've quite enjoyed writing for this universe._


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